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usnebojemesa's review
5.0
I just love love love how unfinished these stories feel
and I love the cover photo with the binding. it's gorgeous.
and I love the cover photo with the binding. it's gorgeous.
carlyalynnsia's review
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
chloemills's review
4.0
A brilliantly written and lovely collection of short stories. Great to dip in and out of, especially on commutes!
wendoxford's review
3.0
Beautifully crafted, thought provoking stories, with, it seemed to me, an overarching theme of dislocation.
zibby's review
4.0
A stunning collection of short stories that take the everyday and make it profound, tragic, funny and insightful.
kaceyymair's review
3.0
Of all the short stories in here i would recommend:
• by the canal
• disappearances
• rehearsal room (this one reminded me of "im thinking of ending things" by iain reid big time)
• by the canal
• disappearances
• rehearsal room (this one reminded me of "im thinking of ending things" by iain reid big time)
keepreadingbooks's review against another edition
4.0
Ok, so the last short story collection I reviewed was Birds of a Lesser Paradise, which I said was well-written despite its other shortcomings. I have to take that back, because this collection is what well-written means. I think it’s the best written collection I’ve read in a long time – though An Account of the Decline of the Great Auk.. and The Purple Swamp Hen are close contenders – yet I did have some difficulty warming to the stories, at least in the beginning. I think I’ve been used to the meaning being clear to me, but here it wasn’t until at a later point, and I think I missed there being a kind of resolution in some of the stories – though I know that is not the point of a short story, necessarily. But the writing and the ingenuity in the plots makes it difficult not to enjoy this collection, regardless!
The Human Circadian Pacemaker (where I suspect the title comes from) and Blackout were my favourites, I think, and I found myself wishing they were entire novels instead of just short stories. In most of the stories some sort of life-altering change is going on and it is fascinating to observe the characters struggling to connect with someone – or trying to avoid it, but finding that it’s an irrepressible human need – in the face of that change.
Although not feeling sure about this collection in the beginning, I warmed to it towards the end, and I’d probably give it 3.5 stars if it were possible. Since it isn’t, I’m rounding up to 4, because I’m feeling generous and also slightly envious of Orr’s brilliant writing.
/NK
The Human Circadian Pacemaker (where I suspect the title comes from) and Blackout were my favourites, I think, and I found myself wishing they were entire novels instead of just short stories. In most of the stories some sort of life-altering change is going on and it is fascinating to observe the characters struggling to connect with someone – or trying to avoid it, but finding that it’s an irrepressible human need – in the face of that change.
Although not feeling sure about this collection in the beginning, I warmed to it towards the end, and I’d probably give it 3.5 stars if it were possible. Since it isn’t, I’m rounding up to 4, because I’m feeling generous and also slightly envious of Orr’s brilliant writing.
/NK
arirang's review against another edition
3.0
Short stories collection aren't my reading medium of choice and I came to this via the wonderful new crowd-funded Republic of Consciousness Prize for Small Presses, indeed I won a copy in a prize-draw for those funding the prize.
Having said that, K.J. Orr was already on my literary radar screen as her story, "Disappearances", featured in this collection, won the 2016 BBC Short Story Prize competition, from a very strong shortlist including the excellent [author:Claire-Louise Bennett|6431820] and [author:Hilary Mantel|58851], and this is a very good example of the genre.
Disappearances is typical of Orr's stories, which roam across different settings (Japan, Buenos Aires, Lake Baikal, a train trip in the northeast of the US, an astronaut trying to settle back into daily life), which usually hinge around discontinuities in personal relationships at an inflexion point in life, and which avoid any easy resolution.
In Disappearances, a retired plastic surgeon in Buenos Aires, out for an earlier walk stumbles across a humble cafe:
It is odd how places local to us can remain invisible for so long – until one day they simply present themselves
The waitress assumes, when he admits to being a surgeon, that he saved lives rather than performed facelifts on vain and wealthy clients, and he makes his visit there, under-dressed, an early-morning ritual, enjoying the feeling:
I maintain the illusion she’s created. It’s not hard. If she likes thinking of me as some sort of hero, should I stop her? I like these mornings, and am loath to disrupt them. I like the silent agreement, the way she mostly ignores me, works around me. And she obviously admires the work she thinks I have done.
Later, and coincidentally, he sees one of his ex-clients in the same cafe, and notices the boorish and condescending way she treats the waitress:
The very wealthy too often forget their manners – maybe because they have no cause to remember them. Often they give the impression that it is not forgetfulness at all but clear intention that makes them do it, a kind of assertion of their greater importance in the world.
But when this lady turns up on another day with her friend, another product of his scalpel, the two recognise him and his relationship with the waitress is shattered, as she realises who, or rather what, he is, meaning that he never does find out the secret of her scarred hands.
Other personal favourites were:
By the Canal, when a whirlwind romance between two lovers who meet on a plane is shattered when they encounter a dog critically wounded in a car accident and feel they must do something: Orr's prose captures wonderfully the man attempting to put the dog out of its misery, but finding it is easier said than done, and his lover's growing disgust.
And The Inland Sea, a beautiful story set (although this is not explicitly stated) literally on Lake Baikal, as two young boys attempt to cross the lake over the ice. The following manages to both describe the scene and explain their mourning for their mother:
Far ahead of them he can see conifers, and birches - slivers of upright silver, lining the banks of the lake. With their father they have been to forest where the trees are lined up like ghostly battalions, clouding the horizon in layered multitudes, even then barely there. Dead souls, their mother would have said.
Her curiosity towards old superstitions had come laced with a love of ambiguity. Details so familiar they were considered fact would be entirely altered.
Definitely recommended to fans of short stories. 3.5 stars, but more rounded down for my own lack of enthusiasm for the form: I would love to see the author venture into novels.
Having said that, K.J. Orr was already on my literary radar screen as her story, "Disappearances", featured in this collection, won the 2016 BBC Short Story Prize competition, from a very strong shortlist including the excellent [author:Claire-Louise Bennett|6431820] and [author:Hilary Mantel|58851], and this is a very good example of the genre.
Disappearances is typical of Orr's stories, which roam across different settings (Japan, Buenos Aires, Lake Baikal, a train trip in the northeast of the US, an astronaut trying to settle back into daily life), which usually hinge around discontinuities in personal relationships at an inflexion point in life, and which avoid any easy resolution.
In Disappearances, a retired plastic surgeon in Buenos Aires, out for an earlier walk stumbles across a humble cafe:
It is odd how places local to us can remain invisible for so long – until one day they simply present themselves
The waitress assumes, when he admits to being a surgeon, that he saved lives rather than performed facelifts on vain and wealthy clients, and he makes his visit there, under-dressed, an early-morning ritual, enjoying the feeling:
I maintain the illusion she’s created. It’s not hard. If she likes thinking of me as some sort of hero, should I stop her? I like these mornings, and am loath to disrupt them. I like the silent agreement, the way she mostly ignores me, works around me. And she obviously admires the work she thinks I have done.
Later, and coincidentally, he sees one of his ex-clients in the same cafe, and notices the boorish and condescending way she treats the waitress:
The very wealthy too often forget their manners – maybe because they have no cause to remember them. Often they give the impression that it is not forgetfulness at all but clear intention that makes them do it, a kind of assertion of their greater importance in the world.
But when this lady turns up on another day with her friend, another product of his scalpel, the two recognise him and his relationship with the waitress is shattered, as she realises who, or rather what, he is, meaning that he never does find out the secret of her scarred hands.
Other personal favourites were:
By the Canal, when a whirlwind romance between two lovers who meet on a plane is shattered when they encounter a dog critically wounded in a car accident and feel they must do something: Orr's prose captures wonderfully the man attempting to put the dog out of its misery, but finding it is easier said than done, and his lover's growing disgust.
And The Inland Sea, a beautiful story set (although this is not explicitly stated) literally on Lake Baikal, as two young boys attempt to cross the lake over the ice. The following manages to both describe the scene and explain their mourning for their mother:
Far ahead of them he can see conifers, and birches - slivers of upright silver, lining the banks of the lake. With their father they have been to forest where the trees are lined up like ghostly battalions, clouding the horizon in layered multitudes, even then barely there. Dead souls, their mother would have said.
Her curiosity towards old superstitions had come laced with a love of ambiguity. Details so familiar they were considered fact would be entirely altered.
Definitely recommended to fans of short stories. 3.5 stars, but more rounded down for my own lack of enthusiasm for the form: I would love to see the author venture into novels.
jackielaw's review against another edition
5.0
Light Box, by K.J. Orr, is a collection of eleven short stories exploring the multitudinous ripples caused by people as they interact and react to life’s experiences. The writing is vivid and sharply felt. As each of the characters is affected by the actions of others and their surroundings there is a shift in perceptions, be it a realisation of regret or the understated recognition of required change.
In 'The Inland Sea' two brothers skip school to set out on an adventure. Although no strangers to personal loss they have lived a sheltered life within a close community. Recent visitors from abroad expanded their vision and now they can envisage a wider world than they have known thus far. They do not yet comprehend the potential cost of broadening their horizons seeing only the beauty and excitement of new experience.
'The Shallows' and 'Blackout' look at the impact of small decisions made by young people which have far reaching effects, not only on themselves. Although not dwelling on how they cope with any regrets there is a knowledge that life has many such ‘what if’ situations and that even inadvertent wrongs cannot be undone, becoming hard to forget.
'Disappearances' and 'The Ice Cream Song is Strange' offer perspectives from those approaching the latter stages of their lives when what they have made for themselves, what seemed important, is somehow stripped back and laid bare offering a discomforting insight on what they are and what could have been.
“What do you do when you stop? When you have been up and running for such a long time, what is it you do? When you’re used to a schedule that takes care of each second of the day? When there is no goal?”
In several stories the dislocation of travel is explored, both the getting away and the return. There is the seeking out of an expected satisfaction that may prove difficult to attain. There is the repulsion felt when personal space is invaded.
'By the Canal' and 'The Island' present young men acting in ways that cause their partners to view them in a new light. How they are subsequently perceived is altered; going forward requires a change of direction. Partners are chosen based on an image created by the beholder which will always be at risk unknown by the beheld.
The snapshots of each life look at what is shown to the world, what is hidden and what seeps out anyway. The stories are intricate webs of emotion as much as action. They speak of the shifting sands of each protagonist’s inner thoughts and how these are shaped by the ripples caused by those they meet.
The writing is subtle, precise and elegantly put together. Each tale offers a clarity of thought that demands careful contemplation. I thoroughly enjoyed reading each work and especially what it revealed about wider peoples. This is a recommended read.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Daunt Books.
In 'The Inland Sea' two brothers skip school to set out on an adventure. Although no strangers to personal loss they have lived a sheltered life within a close community. Recent visitors from abroad expanded their vision and now they can envisage a wider world than they have known thus far. They do not yet comprehend the potential cost of broadening their horizons seeing only the beauty and excitement of new experience.
'The Shallows' and 'Blackout' look at the impact of small decisions made by young people which have far reaching effects, not only on themselves. Although not dwelling on how they cope with any regrets there is a knowledge that life has many such ‘what if’ situations and that even inadvertent wrongs cannot be undone, becoming hard to forget.
'Disappearances' and 'The Ice Cream Song is Strange' offer perspectives from those approaching the latter stages of their lives when what they have made for themselves, what seemed important, is somehow stripped back and laid bare offering a discomforting insight on what they are and what could have been.
“What do you do when you stop? When you have been up and running for such a long time, what is it you do? When you’re used to a schedule that takes care of each second of the day? When there is no goal?”
In several stories the dislocation of travel is explored, both the getting away and the return. There is the seeking out of an expected satisfaction that may prove difficult to attain. There is the repulsion felt when personal space is invaded.
'By the Canal' and 'The Island' present young men acting in ways that cause their partners to view them in a new light. How they are subsequently perceived is altered; going forward requires a change of direction. Partners are chosen based on an image created by the beholder which will always be at risk unknown by the beheld.
The snapshots of each life look at what is shown to the world, what is hidden and what seeps out anyway. The stories are intricate webs of emotion as much as action. They speak of the shifting sands of each protagonist’s inner thoughts and how these are shaped by the ripples caused by those they meet.
The writing is subtle, precise and elegantly put together. Each tale offers a clarity of thought that demands careful contemplation. I thoroughly enjoyed reading each work and especially what it revealed about wider peoples. This is a recommended read.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Daunt Books.